Chapter Text
You’d been in enough vintage and charity shops in your time to know that sometimes you needed to brace yourself. Mostly for the smell, sometimes they were so ripe you’d needed to step outside for a breather mid-shop, often for the dust, and definitely for the chaos of nothing being catalogued according to any sort of system.
You’d expected all that and more when Sophia had said “warehouse”. Not market. Not shop. Not store. Warehouse, big, cavernous warehouse. Bigger normally meant those problems got… well, bigger.
But while the warehouse full of clothes stretching out before you was probably closer in size to an aircraft hanger (ok, maybe not that big, but it was definitely much larger than you’d expected), it wasn’t chaotic at all. It was packed, certainly, railings and shelving units of clothes laid out in an organised maze, mannequins dressed in anything from what looked like BDSM gear to an honest to god cowboy outfit that actually looked like it had fallen out of the late 19th century. There were things beyond clothes too; wigs, movie props, even a whole orchestra section being tended to by the most elegant woman you’d ever seen in the corner nearest the large double doors you were standing in.
You blinked. It had looked so nondescript from the outside. No sign, no advertising, just plain doors and a speaker/doorbell combo that Sophia had said a few quick words into before the doors opened automatically.
Beside you, Eddie let out a low whistle. “Ok. Remind me to never doubt Sophia again.”
“Have you ever doubted her before?” you asked, still mildly stunned at the cornucopia of cool laid out before you.
Eddie paused. “Good point. Right.” He nudged you with his shoulder. “Once more unto the breach?”
You swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Let’s do it.”
As soon as your foot crossed the threshold, you were suddenly almost bowled over from behind by a flood of young men in jumpsuits carrying piles of boxes. You almost lost your balance, stumbling backwards into Eddie as they barrelled past in a flurry of brightly coloured spandex. Your friend’s hands came up automatically to catch your shoulders as your back collided with his chest.
“Watch it!” Eddie snapped, and the last one in the line (a stunningly handsome hunk of a guy with shaggy brown hair, a green jumpsuit and the kindest eyes you’d ever seen) let out a dismayed gasp and helped you back onto your feet, balancing a tower of boxes expertly on his other hand.
“Whoa, I’m so sorry!” he said in a voice reminiscent of a 90s surfer boy. He patted your shoulder, the other jumpsuit clad men screeching to a halt as well. Suddenly, you were surrounded by concerned faces and a chorus of anxious “whoa!” and “dude…” and “so not cool”.
“Are you ok?” asked one of them, a darker-skinned man with a mop of short dreadlocks and an orange jumpsuit. “We, like, totally didn’t see you there! We’re so sorry.”
“Yeah, can we get you anything? A glass of water? A sandwich?” the guy in red asked, before his companion cut him off.
“Or, like, our phone number,” quipped a red-haired man with a dark blue uniform, winking at you cheekily.
Eddie scowled at him. “Just some space is fine, dude.” He set you back onto your feet firmly and let go of your upper arms. He fixed the men surrounding you with his best annoyed glare, and they backed off sheepishly.
“Sorry, dude,” said the orange-jumpsuited guy, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “We didn’t mean to, like, harsh your vibe.”
“It’s ok,” you hastened to say as Eddie bristled behind you. “Honest mistake. I’m fine.”
At your words, they seemed to relax as a unit. Bright smiles met your eyes as you glanced between them. Were they brothers? Friends? Coworkers? Weird to wear matching outfits if they were anything other than uniforms.
“Awesome!” they replied in perfect unison, making your eyebrow quirk.
“We should get back to our delivery,” said the guy who’d first bumped into you, his voice a little more caring and quiet than the others.
“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna get told off by-”
“HANKS!”
A deep, thundering voice rang out, cutting the jumpsuited himbos off entirely. As one, they turned to guiltily look at the sharply dressed, tattooed guy stomping towards them An earpiece coiled down his neck and he glared at the guys before you, halting with hands clasped and shoulders squared.
“You were supposed to make the delivery to the back door,” he said in a clipped, English tone. He didn’t need to yell, the Hanks seemed to be quaking even though his voice was now quiet, controlled.
“Our bad, Mr Dorian, sir,” stammered the orange Hank. “We uh, wanted to see if we could beat our record getting stuff from the front to the back of the store on foot without using the van.”
“Yeah!” chimed in the blond Hank in purple. “Why drive when we could balance the boxes and run at the same time!”
Dorian glared at them, saying nothing.
The red Hank was the first to break, squirming visibly under the other man’s harsh gaze. “.... But maybe next time we use the back entrance.”
“Maybe next time you should,” Dorian replied tersely before stepping aside and letting the Hanks carry on their way. As they dashed out of sight amidst the shelves and racks, he turned back to you with a small but kind smile. “Sorry about that, miss. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”
“No trouble,” you squeaked, trying not to stare at his muscled forearms covered in tattoos, or the strong line of his bearded jaw.
Dorian nodded and strode away, presumably to make sure the Hanks didn’t do anything else record-breaking while he wasn’t looking.
You turned back to Eddie, a baffled look on your face. He returned it with a shrug.
“Weird place,” he concluded, and with a nod you followed him into the labyrinthine warehouse.
After following some directions from a rather frazzled but enthusiastic woman in a baseball cap stocking shelves in the movie costume: slashers section, you and Eddie managed to get a list of where you might start looking for the necessary pieces to amp up your look for the party. Eddie diverted into the Vivienne Westwood section, where a mismatching taffeta waistcoat caught his eye. You wandered aimlessly for a bit, not entirely sure what you were looking for. Your go-to for shows would be something classically punk; ripped jeans, safety pinned leather jackets, anarchist tees, underwear-as-outerwear, that sort of thing. But for an industry party? You weren’t sure.
“Might I offer some assistance?” A smooth, male voice asked from behind you as you ran your hand over a line of shirts, trying to find inspiration. You jumped and turned to see a tall man with coffee-coloured skin, long wavy black hair, an impeccably trimmed beard and shimmering, silver coat that fell to his knees. His appraising eye wasn’t unkind was it swept over you, rather appreciative and sparkling with interest.
You gave a self-deprecating grin. “Is it that obvious I need it?”
The man laughed and shook his head. “No. Sophia warned me that your band was going to be here and that you might need an additional helping hand, that’s all. I am Amir.”
You took his offered hand and, to your surprise, he raised it to brush your knuckles against his lips. “Hi,” you said weakly, just about gathering your words enough to introduce yourself in turn.
“A pleasure. Now, where are the rest of your band mates? I feel a cohesive yet eclectic look is the way to go.” Amir clapped his hands together and looked around.
You pointed Eddie out, who was promptly and gently guided to where you stood, and then after diving back into the racks for a few minutes Amir returned with Volt and Shadow in tow as well. Shadow had foregone the bird skull mask and was instead wearing sunglasses and a PPE face mask, his hood up and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.
“Apologies for diverting you from the attention of our lovely Harper and Dirk,” Amir was saying to them both as he led them towards you and Eddie, waiting obediently by a shelf of old bomber jackets and baseball caps, “but I assumed you didn’t want to hear the end of their…discussion.”
Volt snorted. “Discussion? I thought they were about to strangle each other to death.”
Amir shrugged. “Most likely. But we try to keep customers away at that point.”
Raised voices could just be heard from some distant corner of the warehouse. Shadow turned his face to you enough to make it obvious he’d caught your eye, and you made a face, mouthing awkward.
A sound that could have been a muffled snort emanated from beneath his mask, drawing Amir’s attention. He turned to the drummer with a smile.
“Ah, you must be the fabled mystery member of the band,” he said without a trace of judgement or mockery in his open, earnest tone. “It will be a pleasure to work with you. All of you!” he clarified, addressing the group. “Might I suggest we start in the haute couture ex runway section? Don’t worry,” he added with a knowing smile at Eddie’s uncomfortable shifting at his words, “I don’t put you in anything outrageous. I am merely here as a mirror for your personality and to help that come across in clothing, and also as someone who knows this place rather well.” He fixed you with a dazzling smile. “Shall we?”
Amir ended up being a godsend. Predictably, Volt needed the least help and looked gorgeous no matter what outfit he wore. Every time he flounced out of the makeshift dressing rooms (plywood boxes with mirrors on one side and a curtain on the other), another potential outfit would be added to his pile. Surprisingly, Shadow was the next easiest. Amir had found a long, distressed leather hooded jacket trimmed with shoulders of sweeping black feathers that coiled over the back to the waist and across the chest at the front. The sleeves were mottled, reminiscent of the moon through clouds, and slightly flared where they hung over Shadow’s fingers. Amir paired it with a white shirt and some simple black trousers that had the barest whisper of dark grey smoke print over the fabric. He had taken one look when Shadow had emerged from the dressing rooms and simply nodded, clapping his hands, and moved onto Eddie.
Your mouth had gone dry as Shadow paused, taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror before closing the curtain again. For a moment, you imagined what he’d look like with just the jacket and bird skull mask, and nothing else; planes of stark white contrasting with the black leather like bone, begging for you to run your fingers or even your tongue over the exposed skin…
You turned away, blushing furiously, and grabbed a random outfit from the rack Amir had filled for you before diving into the dressing room.
It took a few different tries, but finally an outfit was found. You opened the curtains, prepared to meet Amir’s un-convinced eyes (although he always said the problem with the previous outfits were never you, only the clothes), but to your surprise you were instead greeted with a nod and satisfied smile.
“Christian Siriano, Fall 2020,” Amir said, a spark in his eye. “I should have known that would be the collection for you.”
It was true. The clothes fit pretty well already, and with the help of Amir it was tucked and pinned until it would fit perfectly. Sophia would have it messengered to your house, you were told, and the costs had already been covered.
You couldn’t help but feel a warm mote of pride in your chest. Clearly, despite her blasé attitude and sharp tongue, Sophia had enough faith in the band to drop more money than you wanted to think about on getting you all dressed and ready for an industry debut.
It almost hurt to take the outfit off, not just because of the pins. You’d already fallen in love and were seriously considering buying it to keep and admire forever. That was until you saw the price tag, at which point all colour drained from your face and you handed it gingerly back to Amir’s waiting hands. Perhaps not.
[nightmare]
01.02
So i hear you’re going to a little party soon. Interesting, i was planning to stop by as well
[xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx]
01.03
Who is this
[nightmare]
01.07
Don’t be coy, my sweet Shadow. You may have “lost” my number but i never lost your’s. Glad to hear the band is working out. I suppose we may bump into each other soon, I look forward to it.
[AUTOMATIC REPLY FOR xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx]
01.07
YOU HAVE BEEN BLOCKED FROM MESSAGING THIS NUMBER